name. She was doing something very similar with her own firm now, using Max’s and Jonjo’s considerable clout in the business world to make a legitimate living in security.
‘Aretha—the girl who died—was a friend of mine,’ she told him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘It was a horrible thing that happened to her. And her husband Chris is a friend too. He’s in the frame for this. I don’t like people doing bad things to my friends. And I don’t believe Chris would harm Aretha. So I need to find out anything I can about what happened that night, so that I can do something about it, okay?’
Ray nodded.
‘So,’ said Annie. ‘You saw her leave, but you didn’t see her arrive?’
He looked down, nodded again.
‘So, when she left. She left alone?’
‘Yes, she was alone.’
‘Did she seem all right?’
He shrugged. ‘She seemed fine. Happy. It was tipping down with rain and I said she ought to take a taxi, and she said she wasn’t made of money.’
Annie’s heart clenched with pain. If Aretha had taken that taxi straight home, and not walked the short distance to the corner around which Chris was parked up, waiting for her, then she would probably be alive right now.
‘Has she come here before?’
‘No, she was a new one here.’
Annie looked at him. ‘Room two hundred and six. Mr Smith. I’m assuming that’s not his real name.’
Again the shrug. ‘Lots of men sign in anonymously and pay cash when they check out. Wouldn’t you, if you were going to use a brass? He might be a man of some importance—probably is; this is a classy place, the prices we charge, I’m telling you. He might have a reputation to consider. He might be married. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.’
‘Did you see this “Mr Smith”?’
Ray shook his head.
‘Did anyone?’
‘The police asked that too. But we see hundreds of people in a day here. No one remembers him.’
Anonymous and invisible.
‘He checked in and the time was recorded, yes? So someone spoke to him then, face to face,’ Annie persisted. ‘Who? Claire? Pippa? The other one, Gareth?’
‘I’ll find out,’ said Ray.
Annie sat back, waiting.
‘You want me to do it now?’ asked Ray.
Annie gave him the look. ‘You got anything else pressing?’
Ray got up and left the lounge. Through the half-open door Annie saw him in a huddle with Pippa at the reception desk. Watched him come back into the lounge, sit down again.
‘Yeah, that would have been Gareth,’ he said. ‘Mr Smith checked in at eight thirty-three in the morning three days ago. He booked in—with Gareth—for the one day and overnight, but no one saw him leave the next morning.’
‘Hold on,’ Annie told him. ‘No one saw him leave? He paid his bill, yes? Spoke to whoever was on reception? But no one saw him?’
‘No one remembers seeing him. As I say, we—’
‘—see hundreds of people in a day. What about the doorman?’
Ray shook his head. ‘People come in and out all day. Whoever’s on the door don’t know their names and barely even notices their faces unless they give a good tip, and you don’t get too many of those. And if this guy wanted to remain incognito, he wouldn’t be doing that , for sure.’
Annie stood up. ‘Gareth Fuller, wasn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And he’s here when?’
‘Actually he’s not,’ said Ray. ‘He left yesterday.’
‘Left?’
‘Manager fired him. Bit of a slacker.’
‘His address then?’
Ray went to get Gareth’s address.
Annie looked around the lounge and wondered what had really been going down between Redmond Delaney and Constantine that they had to meet here. Constantine slipped the Carters three grand a month to keep troublesome elements out of his clubs up West, save him the bother of importing his own muscle from across the pond. Maybe Redmond was undercutting the Carters, and Constantine’s true intention was to work out a better deal with him, or start a
‘Aretha—the girl who died—was a friend of mine,’ she told him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘It was a horrible thing that happened to her. And her husband Chris is a friend too. He’s in the frame for this. I don’t like people doing bad things to my friends. And I don’t believe Chris would harm Aretha. So I need to find out anything I can about what happened that night, so that I can do something about it, okay?’
Ray nodded.
‘So,’ said Annie. ‘You saw her leave, but you didn’t see her arrive?’
He looked down, nodded again.
‘So, when she left. She left alone?’
‘Yes, she was alone.’
‘Did she seem all right?’
He shrugged. ‘She seemed fine. Happy. It was tipping down with rain and I said she ought to take a taxi, and she said she wasn’t made of money.’
Annie’s heart clenched with pain. If Aretha had taken that taxi straight home, and not walked the short distance to the corner around which Chris was parked up, waiting for her, then she would probably be alive right now.
‘Has she come here before?’
‘No, she was a new one here.’
Annie looked at him. ‘Room two hundred and six. Mr Smith. I’m assuming that’s not his real name.’
Again the shrug. ‘Lots of men sign in anonymously and pay cash when they check out. Wouldn’t you, if you were going to use a brass? He might be a man of some importance—probably is; this is a classy place, the prices we charge, I’m telling you. He might have a reputation to consider. He might be married. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.’
‘Did you see this “Mr Smith”?’
Ray shook his head.
‘Did anyone?’
‘The police asked that too. But we see hundreds of people in a day here. No one remembers him.’
Anonymous and invisible.
‘He checked in and the time was recorded, yes? So someone spoke to him then, face to face,’ Annie persisted. ‘Who? Claire? Pippa? The other one, Gareth?’
‘I’ll find out,’ said Ray.
Annie sat back, waiting.
‘You want me to do it now?’ asked Ray.
Annie gave him the look. ‘You got anything else pressing?’
Ray got up and left the lounge. Through the half-open door Annie saw him in a huddle with Pippa at the reception desk. Watched him come back into the lounge, sit down again.
‘Yeah, that would have been Gareth,’ he said. ‘Mr Smith checked in at eight thirty-three in the morning three days ago. He booked in—with Gareth—for the one day and overnight, but no one saw him leave the next morning.’
‘Hold on,’ Annie told him. ‘No one saw him leave? He paid his bill, yes? Spoke to whoever was on reception? But no one saw him?’
‘No one remembers seeing him. As I say, we—’
‘—see hundreds of people in a day. What about the doorman?’
Ray shook his head. ‘People come in and out all day. Whoever’s on the door don’t know their names and barely even notices their faces unless they give a good tip, and you don’t get too many of those. And if this guy wanted to remain incognito, he wouldn’t be doing that , for sure.’
Annie stood up. ‘Gareth Fuller, wasn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And he’s here when?’
‘Actually he’s not,’ said Ray. ‘He left yesterday.’
‘Left?’
‘Manager fired him. Bit of a slacker.’
‘His address then?’
Ray went to get Gareth’s address.
Annie looked around the lounge and wondered what had really been going down between Redmond Delaney and Constantine that they had to meet here. Constantine slipped the Carters three grand a month to keep troublesome elements out of his clubs up West, save him the bother of importing his own muscle from across the pond. Maybe Redmond was undercutting the Carters, and Constantine’s true intention was to work out a better deal with him, or start a
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